Morro Bay » Barstow, CA

2009-08-01: Back into the San Joaquin Valley I plunged, attempting to arrive in Barstow before nightfall. It did not happen that way.

I passed through the town of Lost Hills, home to a massive oil field full of pumpjacks in a variety of drab colours. These are sometimes called "Nodding Donkeys". Literally hundreds of them tilted slowly up and down. For whatever reason, I found it slightly unsettling. I neglected to get any photos so I've posted some I've found on the Internet.

After a 5 or 6 hour haul, I pulled into Barstow for fuel and something to drink, and looking around, I decided I could not stay there. The town looked sickly. The surface of the dusty freeway had been shattered by passing trucks and was illuminated by the ghastly yellow-green glow of ageing streetlights. Shabby motels, bearing weather-worn signs from decades past, lined the main strip, their little lights flickering on and off. Greasy 24-hour diners offered guaranteed stomach discomfort. Liquor stores, sex shops, and tattoo parlours, their windows guarded by thick steel bars, filled in the gaps.

Beyond the town's east side, the dark emptiness of the Mojave Desert awaited my attempt to cross it. I intended to start early the next morning, but I did not think sleeping in Barstow was a desirable thing. My map indicated that there was a rest stop 20 miles out on Interstate 15. Midnight was approaching and the temperature was still around 89 degrees. There was no wind. I rolled down my window and assumed I'd be left alone while I slept at this bustling highway outpost in the desert.

Monterey » Morro Bay, CA

2009-08-01: It turned out that the water in Monterey was too cold for a pleasant swim. The air temperature was a constant 60 degrees and it was raining much of the time. Having no well-defined schedule, I decided to go to a town called Morro Bay, around 100 miles south - surely the temperature would be warmer there, I thought. I could also travel via California State Highway 1. I think it has to be one of the most beautiful coastlines in the world - if not, I cannot imagine what landscape could render it mundane.

Unfortunately, the waters of Morro Bay were just as chilly as those in Monterey, so swimming was still not a good option. I had to make a decision there. I was around the right latitude for my next major destination (the Grand Canyon), but, I could also continue some 350 miles south to San Diego, a destination which I had marked as tentative. Eventually I decided to skip southern California, rationalizing the decision by assuming I'd have some reason to visit the area at some point in the future. Thus, I left the fogbound coast and made for the interior desert.

Travel Notes: Millerton Lake SRA » Monterey, CA

Monterey would be my next destination, as I hoped to swim in the Pacific. The route I took ran through agricultural land and briefly through the Santa Cruz Mountains (I think). Monterey seemed nice enough, but on my schedule I didn't have time for sightseeing; laundry and groceries took priority. All things were very expensive there.

Millerton Lake State Recreation Area

2009-08-01: It was dusk when I began the winding descent back into the central valley. Night came quickly as the sun vanished behind the western mountains. It seemed no one wanted to be in the front of the line of cars travelling down the mountain highway, as they pulled aside, letting me pass them whenever I got close enough. The line of cars thinned and eventually disappeared, and I faced the narrow roads and sharp turns on my own. Surprisingly, though I was straining to see it, I encountered no wildlife.

My destination was Millerton Lake State Recreation Area. I was not eager to visit another California SRA after McConnell, but I tried to be optimistic. After registering and finding my designated site in the dark, I inspected the camp and found bits of trash scattered about. I kicked aside what I could and set up camp, leaving the rain fly off of my tent to enjoy the pleasant temperature and starry sky. I used the only shower with a working light and tried to sleep.

Sleeping was not as easy as I had hoped. A Hispanic family a few sites over was grilling some midnight sausages, though they weren't being unreasonably loud. An owl decided the tree above my tent would be a good place to perch and make its loud owl calls all night. I doubt I could have chased it away. In the morning, I observed just how much garbage was lying around the camp, including a shoe hanging from the tree.

I resolved to avoid using any more SRAs in California after this one.